The ABC's of Dick Grayson
by kittlekat1
Summary: Watch Dick Grayson-Robin-grow up with short stories centering around the alphabet!
1. A is for Anemone

**Okay, guys, new story up here! I'm going through the alphabet, centering around Dick Grayson's (Robin's) childhood. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not YJ. Not Finding Nemo. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>A is for <span>ANEMONE<span>**

Barry smiles as he walks down the hallway, for once not sprinting all over creation for the League. He had dropped Wally off with Roy and Dick for the day so they could train together while the mentors did some missions, and Wally was always excited for that.

Laughter echoes down the industrialized hallway from the open door where the League had set up an unofficial 'playroom' for the trio, brilliant and childish. Immediately Barry discerns only _two_ laughs-Wally's and Roy's. Which means...

Barry sprints the last few feet and gets into the doorway in time to grin again at the sight.

Roy and Wally are howling laughing, leaning over to clutch their stomachs. Dick is brilliantly red, clutching three sheets of stapled notebook paper, squirming uncomfortably underneath his two older brothers' laughter.

"Stop laughing at me!" Dick finally explodes, but it's so much shyer than normal, Wally and Roy hardly pay attention. "C'mon, guys, stop!"

"D-dude, say it again," Wally finally wheezes out, crying he's laughing so hard.

"No!"

"C-C'mon, Dickie," Roy tries to sober up, but he's still stifling giggles, shoulders jerking, as he straightens up and squares off. "You gotta p-practice."

"No! You guys are mean!"

Wally doesn't stop laughing, even as Roy manages to apologize. "One m-more time, Dickie, we won't laugh. Promise."

"Fine." Dick grumbles the word and glances down at his notebook paper. "The sea anenenomone-amenonone-sea amenonenomone-stop laughing at me!"

Even Barry can't stop the laughter that bursts out. Unusually well-spoken for a six year old, Dick could easily pronounce impossible scientific names without an ounce of hesitation-but apparently the word _anemone_ is in a class all of it's own.

Dick glares at them verociously, never one to pout, and clutches his paper to his chest, blushing brightly. "It's hard! Amenome-anemome-anomonone-it's hard to say!"

Barry gets his giggles under control and crouches to get eye-level with the little boy he considers his adoptive nephew. "Dick, try to say it one syllable at a time, okay? A-ne-mo-ne."

"A-ne-no-mo-ne," Dick tries, brows furrowed at he tries to get the syllables out properly. Still, his tongue gets tied up in knots and Barry rocks back on his heels, laughing hysterically. "Anenomone! Amenone! Amenonone!"

"S-stop," Wally begs through his cackling, "I can't t-take it!"

"Stop it!" Dick orders helplessly as the trio continue to laugh at his expense.

"What's going on here?" Bruce asks warily, coming into the room. Immediately Dick throws his arms around his adoptive father's knee and hides his face, scrunching up his homework assignment in the process. "Dick, what's wrong?"

"They're making fun of me," Dick mumbles, not letting go of his father.

Bruce's heart immediately melts-it's easy to see on the normally stoic Batman's face. He reaches down and plucks Dick off the ground, easily settling him up onto his hip. Dick puts both arms around his neck and curls close, homework dangling loosely from his hand.

"And why's that?" Bruce asks tolerantly, shooting a look over at the still-laughing Barry, Wally, and Roy.

"I can't say it!"

"Why not?" he asks perplexedly, thinking that his son couldn't say_ why _they were making fun of him.

"It's unpronounceable!"

Barry goes into a fresh peal of laughter. "The kid can say _unpronounceable_ but not _anemone?_"

Bruce immediately understands and silently curses _Finding Nemo_, recalling the resulting twenty minute attempt to correct the six year old's pronounciation, to no avail. Dick's little hands grab the back of his shirt tightly, wrinkling the homework, and Bruce automatically reaches up to pat his back assuringly.

"It's difficult," he comforts gently, leaning back so he can see his young son's disappointed face. "Why were you trying to say it?"

"I had to write a report on them," Dick explains softly, leaving out the fact that he's in second grade, despite being only six. "And read it to the class. Roy was gonna help me, 'cause he's ten, but I can't say amonene-anomonone-_stop laughing at me!_-I can't say it and they keep laughing."

Bruce chuckles quietly under his breath while Dick's shooting them dirty looks before gently dropping his son, letting the natural acrobat land on his feet with ease. He bends so that they're eye-to-eye, and Dick automatically puts both of his hands on his father's face, a Romanian gesture of love and acceptance, to listen. "Try to say it very slowly, Dickie. One sound at a time. Like when you were learning to read."

Dick's brows furrow again in concentration. "A. Nem. Mo. No. Mo. Ne."

Bruce nods once, and Dick tries again. "Anemonone. A. Nem. Mo. Ne. Anem-monone. Anomonone. Anemome."

He chuckles and gently pulls away from the little boy, the others still laughing. He holds out his hand for Dick to take. "I think it's time to go home, Dickie. We can work on it at home."

Dick latches onto his father's hand, the other going to his belt. Bruce's eyes gleam in pride but he pretends not to see the little boy drop three smoke bombs as they walk out the door.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated, ya'll! :)<strong>


	2. B is for Barbara Gordon and Busted

**Hi guys! Thanks so much for the reviews-always appreciated! **

**This is when Dick's a little bit older-ten/elvenish. Inspired by one of my younger brother's many wisecracks while the two of us are 'people watching' (we were supposed to be shopping for clothes for him before the school year, but neither of us likes to shop). Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!**

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><p><strong> B is for Barbara Gordon (and Busted) <strong>

Being observant is something Bruce has taught Dick. They've done countless exercises. Still, when they walk around the mall or whatever they're doing, Bruce gives him little pop quizzes to train him. Dick likes it-he likes being able to pick up little things like what hand people use more often, or what they order at a Starbucks, or what they might have in their purse.

So that's all he's doing. He's simply...being observant.

After all, girls are weird. They don't do sports. They don't fart. They don't burp. They don't wrestle or play video games. They are completely boring.

And Barbara Gordon is, indeed, a girl. An unusually..._interesting_ girl, but a girl nonetheless.

She's an athlete. A gymnast, in particular. That's interesting. Something in common, at least. She has the body for it, too. Kinda small, compact...

Dick shakes his head and sets his jaw. So she's _kinda_ pretty. Just a little. She has pretty eyes, deep and green. And dark red hair. That curls. And reflects moonlight...

He snarls at himself and Bruce shoots him a curious look. He ignores it and continues to observe Barbara Gordon-Batgirl-on the rooftop just in front of him, her back to him. Of course his eyes go down a little bit to where her tight uniform is hugging the area _just above her thighs_...

"Dick!"

Dick flinches at Bruce's scolding tone, obviously busted. He tilts his head sideways, attempting to be innocent, as Bruce narrows his eyes. Gentlemanly behavior is something _else_ Bruce is training him to have, but it seems the lesson hasn't sunk in yet.

"What?"

Bruce raises his eyebrows. "I _saw_ that..._look._"

"What look?" Barbara asks, twisting around. Dick flushes and looks away, thankful for the mask and the bank alarm going off. She sweeps off into action, and Bruce grabs his ten year old son by his collar before Dick can shoot off his grappling hook and jump. He speaks lowly.

"You. Are. _Busted. _Richard Grayson."

Dick's mouth falls open. "What? What'd I _do?_"

Bruce smirks at him. "What do you _think_ you were doing, Robin?"

Dick gapes like a goldfish for a minute, mouth opening and shutting, before he finds the words. "I-I was...I was _observing!_ That's it! Just _observing!_"

"Miss Gordon's rear?"

"_No! _Her...muscle mass!" Dick congratulates himself on the quick recovery. "I was figuring out how strong she is!"

"I _see._"

"I _was!_"

"Sure, Robin." Bruce shoots off the grappling hook and releases him, leaping off the building. Dick stumbles and rushes after him as Bruce yells backwards, "_Observing!_"

"I _AM! _I mean...I mean I _WAS!" _

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><p><strong>Tell me what you think! ;)<strong>


	3. C is for Courage

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter Three, 'C is for Courage'. This isn't my favorite-might be redone. Keep an eye out! **

**Again, thanks for reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Shocking, isn't it? **

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><p><strong>C is for Courage<strong>

Bruce very rarely questions Dick's choices. His son, albiet only being seven years old, is very intelligent and normally incredibly rational. He's easy-going, happy-go-lucky, very difficult to irritate. All of these are qualities he appreciates in his young son.

Still...it is Dick's courage that blows Bruce away.

On a serious level, the amount of sheer bravery the little boy displays on a nightly basis shocks him. Dick fearlessly faces top-of-the-line criminals and crooks with all pistons firing, ready for anything and everybody. He's on top of the world without being cocky-he's willing to take on anyone, no matter how big or tough.

As _Robin. _Bruce has always tried to make that line very distinct-_Robin_ had to be fearless, courageous, tough. _Dick _could be the everyday, average little boy. Obviously, the lesson was not well learned.

Bruce chuckles as he situates himself in the chair in front of the principal's desk next to the other boy's mother. Said boy is nearly two heads taller than Dick and probably ten pounds heavier, as well as three years older _and_ on the football team. He is _also _covered in bandages and bruises. The mother is shooting Bruce evil looks.

Meanwhile, Dick is grinning wildly on his other side. His son doesn't look one hundred percent either-his left eye is swollen shut and his nose is bleeding profusely, but he doesn't look near as bad as his opponent.

From what Bruce has been able to gather over hysterical yelling, Dick's laughter, and the other boy's protests, the boy had been picking on Dick all week, pushing him around, making him do his homework, and punching him in the hallway.

Dick-being Dick-had gotten sick of it approximately two hours ago. And, being the courageous-if not apparently utterly irrational-boy he is, Dick proceeded to beat the living hell out of this poor boy.

Bruce shakes his head slowly. He can't help it. What normal seven year old goes against a ten year old with two feet and ten pounds on him?

Well...no normal seven year old. Just _his_ seven year old.

The principal explains that both boys will be suspended, but not expelled; that if this happens again the consequences will be dire; what were they thinking. Both parents assure that they will be punished at home. The principal than turns to Dick and begins to scold him, and Bruce-oh, man-Bruce sees Dick's eyes go from trying to hide amusement to calculating and wry.

And as Dick calmly explains why the punishment is not appropriate for his actions, _according to the rule book_, Bruce decides that perhaps his son as a little bit too _much _courage.

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><p><strong>Tell me what ya'll think! ;) <strong>


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